


Fly-by

by zats_clear



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zats_clear/pseuds/zats_clear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many, many thanks to muck_a_luck and abyssinia4077 for letting me bounce ideas off them about all the ways Sam and Cam knew each other, reading the bits of story outline and actual paragraphs I would IM to them over the last few weeks, and going over the <strike>finally, thank god</strike> completed story. Additional hugs to aurora_novarum for being an amazing resource for so many details I could almost remember but could not quite place. All errors are mine, but trust me, without these three, there would have been more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly-by

"Ayepwrane for baby," the toddler stated, and handed the varnished wooden plane over. Mother and daughter stared at each other for a long moment, a silent battle of wills, before the woman gave in.

"Ok, Samantha," she shrugged with resignation. "We'll get the airplane for Mrs. Mitchell's baby." She took her daughter by the hand and walked to the front of the store. "I certainly hope she's having a boy..."

***************

Mark fiddled with the dials, trying to bring up something other than static on the short wave radio, his eyes tight with frustration. Thirty minutes of bad reception was wearing thin on the pre-teen and his friend.

 

"Maybe you should just ask your sister," the boy beside him muttered.

 

"No way! She'd just fix it and then I'd never hear the end of it," Mark whispered, shooting angry glares at the blonde girl just outside the window. Oblivious, she tossed the ball for the family dog.

 

"Yeah. She'd  _fix_  it. You know,  _make it work?_  And then, if we're lucky, we might just catch the end of  _Moscow Mailbag_."

 

"Cameron, you don't know what it's like," Mark said. Defeated, he got up and knocked on the window, motioning for his sister to come in. "She  _always_  makes things work, and that's just..." As his sister came to the doorway, he fell silent and simply gestured towards the table.

 

"Sam, what you're brother is trying to say is, we need help," Cameron diplomatically supplied.

 

"Oh, that's easy," Sam turned and left the room. Mark looked at Cameron and raised his eyebrows. 

 

 _See?_ Cameron shrugged. 

  
_I don't know, she's your sister._ A voice echoed from the other end of the house, "Now try it." The presenter’s voice blasted from the radio and both boys rushed to turn the volume down. "You left the TV on in the living room." Cam stared at her in confusion. 

  
"It interferes with the short wave reception and you need all the boost you can get to tune into that Cuban transmitter for your show."

 

Mark's eyes began to glaze over while Cam listened appreciatively to the thorough description of the hows and whys of short wave radio interference. Sam, satisfied that she'd taught at least one of the boys to fish and had not just handed over the fillet, returned to the side yard to play with the dog.

 

Cameron grinned widely, "Man, your sister's amazing!"

 

Mark turned away, shaking his head in disbelief, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

 

***************

 "I don't want to be around you either, so we're even!" The slamming door reverberated through the house, through her head, matching the pounding of her heart and her angry, harsh breaths. Sam sat on the bed, clenching and unclenching her fists. It wasn't fair. It totally sucked. Why her Mom, who was always there, and not her Dad, who was never there? Even when he was. If he'd been on time. If he'd been where he was supposed to be. Just. Once. None of this...

 

She twisted violently and punched at her pillow, over and over, before finally crushing it to her face and sobbing. The late afternoon light faded as the anger drained away, leaving her with swollen red eyes and a head full of snot. Avoiding her mirror, she crossed the room to pick up the latest in an omnipresent stream of sympathy cards and letters. 

  
_Kansas._  Humph. She'd seen its' twin earlier on Mark's desk. Sam carefully slit the envelope. Numb, patient, on autopilot. The card was blue, with flowers. And flowery words that meant nothing. She opened it to see what Kansas had to say.

 

_Samantha, it gets worse before it gets better. But it will get better, honest. take care of yourself, Cameron Mitchell_

 

***************

 Fourth Class Cadet Mitchell walked on the line at the edge of the hallway, head tucked, back straight, eyes forward. Destination: Mitchell Hall for the few bites of food he'd be able to swallow  _chew seven times only, Smack_  before it was time to march smartly to his first class of the day. A flash of short blonde hair and blue eyes caught in his peripheral vision and before he could stop himself,  _he stopped himself,_ causing a cadet pile up guaranteed to attract the wrong kind of attention.

 

"Samantha!" the name spilled out of his mouth amidst the curses and frantic shuffles of his victims. The blonde stuttered a step as another upperclassman turned on Cameron like a rabid dog. Backing him tightly against the wall, nose to nose, the 19–year-old boy began a barrage of insults and interrogations that flew past Cameron faster than he could begin to formulate answers. He was vaguely aware that the others he'd tripped up also found themselves with new best friends. He'd be catching hell for this later.

 

"Did I hear you speak,  _Smack?"_

 

"Did you  _dare_  to address your superior without cause?"

 

_"Why are you looking at me? Did I tell you to look at me?"_

 

Cameron's tormentor paused briefly, "Do you know this ignorant smack, Cadet Sergeant Carter?" he threw over his shoulder.

 

"Not at all, sir," came back without hesitation, and the girl walked on.

 

"What do you have to say for yourself, Smack?!"

 

Spinning quickly in his mind, Cameron pulled out the only one of the "seven approved responses" that would apply to the ridiculous situation he had gotten himself into, "No excuse, sir."

 

"Altimeter Check!" Spit hit his face.

 

_"Sir, my altitude is 7,258 feet above sea level; far, far above that of West Point_ _or Annapolis."_

 

"Code of Conduct!"   Onions for lunch? Seriously?

 

 _"Sir, Article One._   _I am an American fighting man. I serve in the forces which guard my country and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense..."_

 

Cameron gave up on any possibility of chow and began to silently pray he'd make it to class on time.

 

***************

An unseasonably cool wind blew hard at Cam’s back as he hiked out to the Upper 2nd lot on the north end of the Parade Field. If not for the fact that he  _really really_  wanted some downtime, a good meal, and the chance to make a private phone call home, he would most certainly  _not_ be catching a ride out to his sponsor family's home with one Cadet Samantha Carter. Not that he's real sure what else she could have said, but to leave his ass hanging out there like that last year just seemed  _uncharitable._

As he approached the lot, Cam could see that she had reached her car before him and was waiting in the driver's seat. He picked up the pace, plastered on his best farm boy grin, and climbed into the thankfully warm vehicle. She avoided his eyes as she said hello, started the car and backed out. His good manners deserted him for a few miles as he let her stew before the voice in the back of his head chastised him. Their two sponsor families were neighbors, friends even, and he was sure this was not going to be the last time he caught this train out to the suburbs of Colorado Springs.

"So what are..."

"I really didn't know you'd..."

 With an embarrassed smile, Cam made a sweeping motion with his arm. Sam looked at him gratefully, taking a deep breath. "I'm so sorry about last year. I had no idea it was you until after I talked to Mark at Christmas," came out in a rush. Her shoulders relaxed, apologies made. "You really did look different."

"What, you mean the shaved head and scared witless thing didn't ring any bells for you?" Cameron laughed.

"You know, that really was funny. Like a train wreck, right there in the middle of the hall. You have no idea how much grief I got over that! Blue Eyed Babykiller. Smack-Down Sam. 'Where's your boy toy, Carter?' It went on for months!"

Cam shook his head with a wry smile. "You don't want to know what happened on my side of the locker room," he said. She raised her eyebrows and tipped her head in a question. "Really. It's just not polite."

Sam tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a giggle. "I heard."

"Oh, man! That is so wrong!"

 

***************

Cam sprawled across the table in the darkened classroom, long legs draped over two chairs, mouth open in a silent snore.

 "Mitchell!" his fellow student barked out as he walked into the room, flipping on the bright overhead light. Startled, Cam flailed madly, and landed in heap on the floor

 "Yeah. Give a guy some warning, will ya, Cody?" he complained, standing as he glanced at his watch. "What's up with class? Y'all shoulda been here 20 minutes ago."

 "Held up. All the instructors are mooning over some hotshot chick back from a tour in the Gulf." Cody sifted through the dismal contents of the snack-bar, eyeing and rejecting several battered items before settling on a package of Twinkies.

  
"You know who?" Cam questioned. "And those things'll kill you, by the way. There is nothin' resembling food in Twinkies."

"Carter. Jessup called her Bobbie or Jamie or one of those boy-girl names from down in your neck of the woods," Cody smirked, and licked some creamy filling from the corner of his mouth.

"Sam? Man, I know her! She's shit hot. Used to hang out with her brother when I was a kid. We were at school together."

 Several other student pilots made their way into the room, catching the tail end of the conversation.

"She was at the Academy? Wonder if Daddy gave her that for Christmas, too," sarcasm laced heavily over the short, dark haired man's words as he snagged Cody's second Twinkie. "Must be nice to be a General's daughter. Hey, Mitchell, you should see if she can put in a good word for you, where you two go way back and all."

Cody tried to flash the idiot a warning glance. It went unheeded. Cam's eyes narrowed as he closed the distance between himself and the still-talking man.

"Everything she has, she's earned. And Sam's like a sister to me, so treat her with the respect you would show my sister." Cam's voice was low, but perfectly audible. There was a long silence as Cam stared down, blue eyes meeting brown, brooking no dissent. Finally, the shorter man gave a nervous laugh. "Sure, Cam. No harm, no foul."

He studied late, until he was finally convinced he knew the checklists backwards and forwards for his check ride the following afternoon. He closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out over his head. His watch read 2230. Cam stared at the phone for a moment, picked it up and dialed.

"Laughlin Manor, can I help you, sir or ma'am?" the disembodied voice, on the other end of the line queried brightly.

"Lieutenant Samantha Carter, please."

"One moment, sir, while I connect you." Cam piled his tech order binders into his flight bag while he listened to the desk clerk type Sam's name into the computer. "I'm sorry, sir. Lieutenant Carter checked out this afternoon. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

 

***************

"And then, he just walked right back in there and asked for a refund. Said they lacked 'truth in advertising!'" Jonas snorted with laughter at his own joke as each member of the large party was slowly fed through the revolving door of the Old Ebbitt Grill for their standing Friday night gathering at the Old Bar.

"Hey, barkeep! We'll have seven foamy drafts of your finest ale!" Jonas brayed, as he bellied up the long brass bar.

She put her arm up behind him, "Make that six," Sam caught the bartender's eye. "And a diet coke," she added.

"Aw c'mon, Samantha. Live a little."

"I told you, I am just taking a break and having an app for dinner and then I'm heading back. I really feel like I'm close to something," she answered, chin back, waiting for the next step in an all-too familiar dance.

 

"Of all the gin joints in all the world..." Cameron stepped up to Sam and embraced her in a warm hug, ignoring the immediate posturing of her apparent date.

 

"Cam! Jonas, this is my friend, Cameron Mitchell. Cam, my fiancé, Jonas." Sam beamed happily at both men, annoyance forgotten.

 

"Fiancé,” Cam looked at Sam, then Jonas. “Wow, congratulations!”

 

"I've known Cam since we were kids. And we were at the Academy together," Sam explained. “It’s been, what? Four? Five years, now?”

 

Jonas eyed Cameron’s outstretched hand for a long moment before shaking it. “Any friend of Sam’s…” he said unconvincingly.

 

“You’re a very lucky man,” Cam stated, trying to defuse the moment.

 

"Luck has nothing to do with it. Samantha knows a good thing when she sees it," Jonas put forth, arrogantly assured that he was the good thing under discussion.

 

Sam winced inwardly and avoided Cameron's inscrutable blue-eyed stare. "Yes," he said carefully. "She's always known what's good for her."

  
Her faced burned as she saw Jonas, her  _and_  Jonas, through Cam’s eyes.

 

Whatever  _something_  she'd been close to was long gone when she got back to her Pentagon office. Frustrated, she left and made her way home. In the silent darkness of her condo, Samantha Carter played and replayed the last nine months of her life, picking apart the details of her oh-so-glorious compromise. Wondering what lapse of judgment allowed her to think happily-ever-after and white picket fences were possible with that  _particular_  man.

 

She set the ring on the kitchen counter and promised herself she would never settle, never be the foil for a man's ego.

  
***************

It was nice to be home. Nice to not be court-martialed for disobeying orders and saving the world. Nice to know that Apophis was no longer a problem for Earth or any other planet. Nice to be out in the sunshine of her driveway, on a warm summer morning in Colorado. Ahhh, the zen of motorcycle maintenance. There was nothing like it.

 

"Well, this is about where I thought I'd find you," a man's voice stated with amusement.

 

Sam looked up, grease smeared darkly across her left cheekbone, to see Cameron Mitchell.

 

"You're lucky you found me at all," she said wryly. " You really need to call ahead if you actually want to see me."

 

"What? And give you the opportunity to get cleaned up so I miss the real Samantha Carter? Not a chance," he gave her a hand up. "I just stopped by the Springs for a few days anyway. Unexpected. And exactly where does the Deep Space Telemetry program send you, anyway?" This was an on-going jest, Cam knowing she was surely doing something that he wouldn't ask and she couldn't tell, but he still enjoyed teasing her about it whenever they talked.

 

Sam made a face as she wiped her hands on a towel. "Well, let's just grab some lunch and you can tell me all about her."

 

"What makes you think there's a 'her??'" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to look offended.

 

"Cameron, there is  _always_ a 'her'" she laughed.

 

***************

"Here are the files for the F-302 program, Major," Hammond said as he handed her a sizable stack of personnel records. "Each commander has put forth their best people out of an eligible pool given your requirements for the 302 program. The personal information is redacted so you can judge them all equally. I’m sure more than a few of the names will be familiar. I need you to rack and stack them and return them to me by the end of the week."

 

"Yes, sir," Sam replied enthusiastically. They were coming down to the final steps in creating a fully operational F-302 program. In a matter of months, some of the people in this stack were going to be training on the most advanced aircraft the Air Force had to offer. She grabbed a snack from the commissary to hold her over. They had plans for dinner out, to celebrate Daniel's return to the land of the living. But for now, she got to play with her baby.

 

Eight hours later, Sam brought her rank ordered list to General Hammond's office. Walter stopped her on the way in. "General Hammond thought you might want to see this when you were done," he smirked, handing her the list of names associated with the different files. She did a quick check against her list to see the name of the pilot she had placed at the top, the prospective Squadron CC for the future Blue Squadron of F-302 fighters.

 

Lt Col Bryce Ferguson. She smiled when she saw Cameron Mitchell made the number two slot. Yes, her baby was in good hands.

 

***************

Cameron Mitchell walked around his partially dismantled apartment. 

_Walked._  They told him he would never walk again. Guess the doctors just didn't count on the sheer stubborn nature of the Mitchell men. His mom could have told them something about that.

 

General O'Neill had told him he could have any assignment he wanted. As the haze of medications had cleared from his head, he knew where he had to be. And he knew he'd earned it. The packers would be here tomorrow to box up all his stuff for Colorado. He stopped in front of his bookshelf and reached out for the small wooden plane on the top shelf, gently fingering the baby tooth marks on the wings, touching lightly on the chipped tail. A little worse for the wear and tear, but still in one piece.

  
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," he whispered to himself.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bending the Light: 5 Sam and Cam's that weren't](https://archiveofourown.org/works/160224) by [zats_clear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zats_clear/pseuds/zats_clear)




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